


Killer | Queen: Istanbul, November 1933

by rainpuddle13



Series: Killer | Queen [2]
Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015), CHRISTIE Agatha - Works, Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Drama, F/M, Intrigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainpuddle13/pseuds/rainpuddle13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strangers on a train, or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Killer | Queen: Istanbul, November 1933

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Genie1960, Alicebhatt, and Doffiepoldark for a fic prompt challenge. Thank you to Mmmuses and Nokomis for catching all my typos!

_Istanbul, November 1933_

“This is my surprise?” Alice’s throaty laughter was full of mirth, squeezing his hand and nudging into him. “First class tickets to Paris on the Orient Express?”

“Only the best for you, kitten,” Philip answered after handing over their bags to the porter. He pulled her into his arms and smiled at her delighted face. It had been great fortune when he’d bumped into her at the Grand Market in Istanbul a few days ago completely by happenstance. They’d barely been out of the others company since. “Mrs Lombard.”

“When did we get married?” she inquired, slipping her arms up around his neck, fingers toying in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “I hate that I don’t remember the wedding at all.”

He chuckled, very glad the revelation about their sudden nuptials hadn’t caused a flap. He liked that about her. She was one who could roll with the punches. “About five seconds before I booked the tickets.”

“Oh, a quickie wedding,” she mused, “at my father’s insistence because you debauched me?”

“More like the other way around.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.

She took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss, smirking as she wiped lipstick from his mouth. “Likely so.”

“I know so,” he laughed, taking her hand and tangling their fingers together. “You make me look like a priest in comparison.” They had bit of time for coffee and a little shopping before the train departed. She would have need of a wedding ring if they were to pull of this charade. He was rather enjoying this new dynamic in their relationship. She was very adorable playing the newlywed coquette and there was nothing more satisfying to a man’s ego than having a beautiful woman hanging on his arm.

“I’m not that bad am I?” Alice stopped dead.

“Worse,” he assured her, not liking the hurt he was seeing her crystal blue eyes, “and I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Her smile returned and she seemed placated by his answer. “Then what are we really doing here, hubby?”

“I have something I need to take care of on the train before it reaches Paris.” There was no point in hiding it from her since wasn’t like she didn’t know what he was about.

“Oh,” she purred, and he felt the trill of excitement surge through her, “can I help?”

He gave her hand a little tug. “I think I’d like that.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So who’s the mark?” Alice asked as casually as she could muster. They were on the second day of their journey and Philip had yet to divulge any of details about whatever he had to accomplish before the train reached Paris. Time was on his side though with the train stopped by a snowdrift near Vinkovci.

He took a sip of the dark red wine served with their dinner before answering her. “An American, Ratchett is the name he’s currently using.”

“An American,” her nose wrinkled as she spoke, she didn’t care much for Yanks, “why for?”

“He did something very bad.” Philip ruthlessly cut into his steak with his knife and fork, eyes focused on the task and his jaw clenched. She knew from experience that meant he was angrier than words could express.

She picked up her own knife and fork and looked down so she could watch him surreptitiously beneath her lashes. “Is it going to be a this or a that?”

“That,” he said grimly, “definitely that.”

“Oh,” she gasped, a little taken aback at his vehemence. He was normally so cool when it came to what he did that she often wondered if he actually had any blood in his veins. “It was that bad then.”

“He kidnapped a three year old little girl, murdered her, and collected the ransom,” Philip explained. “He was caught and escaped on a technicality. The family is seeking retribution.” A dark look she’d never witness before crossed his face and disappeared quickly as he gained control of his emotions again. This Ratchett apparently hit a little too close to home for him.

All things being equal, she wasn’t normally too fussed over the terrible things people did, that was just human nature and she was not one to be hypocritical. She reached across the table to place her hand over his clenched tight around the handle of his knife. “Tell me what I can do,” Alice said.

“You’re going to make friendly with him in the club car and get him to take you back to his cabin,” Philip stated. “You’ll drug his drink and when he’s out you’ll let me in.”

She nodded. “I can definitely do that.”

“Then I’ll take care of the rest,” Philip said, his dark eyes glinting with malice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had gone better than planned until the bastard cried out the first time the blade of the large hunting knife pierced his chest. Two more vicious stabs silenced him forevermore. He motioned for Alice to take the knife in her gloved hands and stab Ratchett as well, but using her left to add to the confusion while he scattered conflicting evidence about the small cabin.

A knock at the door stilled them both. “Monsieur Ratchett, is everything alright?” a heavily accented conductor asked from the other side.

Philip locked eyes with Alice, and answered, “ _Ce n'est rien. Je me suis trompé_.” It is nothing, I was mistaken.

Neither of them drew another breath until a bell rang urgently further down the corridor and drew the conductor’s attention away. Philip nodded to the window. He would escape that way after locking and chaining the door behind Alice. Yet another conundrum for whoever was going to be doing the investigating when the body was discovered.  
He watched intently as she slipped out of the black silk evening gown she’d worn and pulled on the red kimono he’d brought for her, his eyes lingering on the thatch of fiery curls at the apex of her creamy thighs and he licked his lips absently. She was aroused. He could smell it.

"Five minutes?” she asked, pressing up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

He stuffed the dress into the bag with the knives and the towels they’d cleaned up with. “Give or take.”

“I’ll be waiting.” She listened a moment before disappearing into the corridor. He shut the door behind her, reengaging the lock and replacing the chain.

With one last glance around the small space to make sure he’d left nothing behind, he made for the window. "I’ll see you in hell, you fucking bastard,“ he promised Ratchett’s bloody corpse before ducking out into the frigid night air.

It took closer to ten minutes for him to make it to the rally point after scrambling to the top of the carriage, the heavy snow making footing treacherous on his way to dispose of the bag near the end of the line of train cars. He’d scouted a steep ravine to right of the last two carriages earlier when he did his reconnoiter.

"You’re late,” Alice whispered from the shadowy recess near the door to their carriage.

He shook snow from his dark locks and began to remove his wet clothing. “Minor complications. Do you have my clothes?”

She pressed his robe and pyjama bottoms in his hands. “Did anyone—”

“No,” he growled, grabbing her wrist to pull her into the WC as the door at the other end opened and a conductor came in on his rounds.

They stood, scarcely breathing, with her back to his front in the tiny room. There had been barely enough room to shut the door with both of them occupying the space. His body reacted instantly to her closeness, the excited fluttering of the pulse point on her neck, the heightened danger of being caught.

“Philip,” she groaned softly, pressing her soft arse back against his hardening cock. “Oh, God.”

“Can you be quiet?” He was tugging at the silk robe, needing it out of the way. She hissed when he reached around her and his questing fingers found her wet curls, one finger tracing the seam of her sex teasingly.

“I-I don’t know,” she groaned, bracing her hands on the door and grinding her hips back against him in desperation.

“You’re going to have to be,” he warned, using his knee to force her legs further apart, “if you want me to fuck you.”

“Please,” she whimpered, “please…”

He freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and guided himself to where his fingers had been, nudging the thick head into the slick folds. She shuddered, but didn’t make a sound when he braced one hand on the door and used the other to hold her hips still as he impaled her from behind with one hard thrust. She fit him like sheath, hot and tight around his throbbing cock, and when she shifted back against him and he slid even deeper inside of her, he nearly lost his mind. He moved with deliberation, hard and sharp, ramming into her over and over until he was nearly lifting her off the floor with each stroke. He clamped a hand over her mouth when she could no longer contain her mewling. She was close; he could feel the tight muscles of her core starting to quiver.

“Everything alright in there?” a sharp rap on the door came with the questioning voice.

“Yes,” Philip responded, his voice strained when Alice suddenly exploded with her release. He tightened his hand to contain her cries, driving even harder and deeper inside of her, knowing the conductor was right there on the other side of the door and could barge in at any time. The risk of being caught in such a compromising position, having to explain what they were about, only ignited his lust fueled madness.

“Just ring the bell if you need anything,” the man called through the wooden door.

“I will,” he ground out, dropping his face into her shoulder to muffle his cry, stiffening with one final thrust, coming hard, shaking and jerking as she milked him of every last drop with clenching muscles as she came again. He dared not move, pressed against her back, panting hard to replenish the air in his lungs. It felt like he’d just run twenty miles through the jungle. He didn’t yet trust his legs to hold him upright.

He pressed a kiss to the bite mark marring her pale skin. “Sorry,” he said softly in her ear, removing his hand from her mouth.

“I-it’s alright.” Her legs were shaky when he finally moved to shed the rest of his clothing and don the nightclothes she had waiting for him. She’d turned around to lean back against the door to watch him, looking utterly ravished with smudged lipstick and bruised lips, her robe falling off one shoulder, and he couldn’t help smirking when her eyes lingered on his chest and torso.

“See something you like?” he teased, pulling up the white pyjama bottoms.

“Definitely.” She grabbed handful of the indigo blue dotted silk of his robe and pulled him to her so he could kiss her thoroughly. He enjoyed leaving her breathless and trembling. It was one of his favorite things in the world. “Tonight was fun,” she said between nips along his jaw.

“It was,” he conceded, hands sneaking inside of her kimono to grasp her slender waist.

Her fingers threaded in his damp hair. “We should do something together more often.”

“Maybe we should, kitten,” he chuckled, dipping his head low to graze his lips against her throat, “maybe we should.”


End file.
